


FE3H Siblings Week 2020

by fancywaffles



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Siblings, Family Fluff, Gen, Glenn Fraldarius Lives, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Glenn Fraldarius, Minor Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancywaffles/pseuds/fancywaffles
Summary: Compilation of the FE3H Siblings Week prompt fills, previously on twitter.Including the sibs: Felix & Glenn; Sylvain & Miklan; Ingrid & Big Bro Evin; Ashe & Christophe; Hilda & Holst; Dimitri & Edelgard
Kudos: 46
Collections: FE3H Siblings Week





	1. Everyone Lives AU - Glenn & Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn cannot help teasing Felix about this particular thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First bit was for the actual prompt, the second two (one Sylvix-ish, the other DimiGlenn-ish) were requested as follow-ups.

Glenn practically threw himself onto the arm of the chair Felix was sitting in, purely to startle him, which worked and then his brother smirked at his success.

“When did you get back?” Felix asked him, having an inner debate as to whether or not he wanted to shove him off the armrest or let him have his stupid victory.

“Long enough to see you mooning over Sylvain.”

“ _What_?” Felix regretted debating and shoved at his brother’s knee until he lost his balance and had to land on his feet like a cat. “What are you talking about?”

Glenn looked at him with an eyebrow raised and Felix could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, so he knew there really wasn’t a way out of this, but he was not going to go down without a fight. “Don’t be a jerk, Glenn.”

“You know that opera we had to suffer through,” Glenn said, and waved Felix off before he could _disagree_ since he actually liked it and had taste, unlike Glenn who was as tone deaf as Dimitri. “The one where that servant girl was in love with the prince and would desperately, longingly, look at him when his back was turned?”

Felix narrowed his eyes at his brother. “I _don’t_ do that.”

“You absolutely did. You do, I don’t know why I didn’t notice before, but you have been hanging off him since you were kids.” He tilted his head and pressed one knuckle to his chin. “Didn’t you two also… vow to spend the rest of your lives together?”

“Shut up!”Felix threw the nearest cushion at him. “Go back to Fhirdiad!”

Glenn tapped his stupid knuckle against his chin again. “You know what, that is a good idea. I bet Dimitri knows how—”

He didn’t get the next word out because Felix leapt out of his seat and threw himself at Glenn’s midsection, catching his brother off guard for once and knocked him to the floor. Felix jammed an elbow into his gut and then Glenn did shut up and fought back.

Later, scuffed up with broken furniture, their father looked at them with a long sigh. “Some families greet each other without black eyes.”

“Those families sound boring,” Glenn said, rubbing his jaw where Felix had landed a solid hit. Felix focused on that instead of how much his ribs hurt.

Their father sighed again and then gestured between them. “What was it about this time?”

Felix felt as if he’d had snow shoved down both sides of his shirt in Gautier winter, he glanced over at Glenn, who was smirking.

“Does it have to be about anything?” Glenn said, making the ice in Felix’s chest melt a little.

Their father narrowed his eyes at Glenn and then looked suspiciously at Felix, and then gave up and threw his hands up into the air before turning around. “Welcome home, Glenn,” he said in an exasperated voice as he walked off.

Felix didn’t realize he was holding his breath until it came back to him in a rush of pained whooshing out of his lungs. “Thanks,” he said, then bit his lip. “You’re… not going to talk to Dimitri, right?”

“Of course not,” Glenn said, seriously. “Who do you think I am? I’m your brother first and foremost.”

The relief lasted barely two seconds, before Glenn grinned and added. “I’m gonna talk to Sylvain.”

Felix went for his neck this time.

* * *

_And then later,_

Sylvain squinted into the distance, trying to figure out if he was looking at a bird or a wyvern, but it was too far away to tell. He was focused on this entirely useless, therefore perfect, waste of time when the all too familiar annoyed harumph and slight weight flopped down next to him.

He smiled automatically and turned to look at Felix, smile dropping off his face. “What the hell happened?” Sylvain asked immediately.

Felix’s mouth pursed and he winced, because his lip was split and recently tended to. He had a bruise blooming on his cheekbone and scratches where his sleeves were rolled up. “Glenn,” he grunted. “Don’t talk to him, he’s being an idiot.”

It was a little easier not to immediately jump to the worst case scenario now that Felix would look annoyed instead of cry whenever he’d lose to Glenn in a fight, but there was still a chilly grip in Sylvain’s chest while he had to remind himself that their roughhousing was normal and not…

“Did he win?”

Felix grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. He always looked really funny and kind of adorable when he looked that irritated, so now instead of trying not to overreact, Sylvain tried not to laugh. Apparently he hadn’t been too successful, because his lips kept quirking up and Felix shoved him with his elbow.

Sylvain snorted and leaned back to sling an arm around Felix’s shoulders, who immediately looked embarrassed. “Don’t ignore me this entire visit because you think you need to practice more brawling for the rematch.”

“I wouldn’t have to ignore you if you’d spar with me.”

Sylvain had no intention of training on what was basically a vacation, not to mention he hated brawling, and definitely didn’t want to do it with his friends. “ _Or_ we could slip a dead fish into Glenn’s room while he’s distracted by the Galatea arrival.”

Felix didn’t say anything, which meant it wasn’t a no. “That’s shady.”

“Strategic,” Sylvain corrected, getting a snorted laugh from Felix.

“Maybe,” Felix said, which also wasn’t a no. He actually liked his brother though, so Sylvain would probably have to continue to cajole him into it, but Glenn deserved it for the split lip.

“You should get that touched up,” Sylvain said, touching the wound closure on Felix’s split lip. He thought he’d done it lightly but Felix winced. “Sorry, it’s… bugging me. I know you guys love your war wounds, but it’s going to be a bitch to eat tonight with that.”

“Yeah okay,” Felix said. “But seriously don’t talk to him, he’s an idiot.”

“Fine, I will ignore Knight Fraldarius,” Sylvain said, with a grin as he realized, “I’m sure that’ll thrill my parents, who are always complimenting me on my manners.”

That got him another snort and Felix made a face when his lips quirked up, that made Sylvain stand and half drag him to his own feet. “Nurse Greta and her incredibly low cut uniform awaits!”

He couldn’t figure out the look Felix shot him, but he followed along anyway. 

* * *

_And then even later,_

Glenn found Felix first, which was honestly too easy, because his little brother was engrossed in watching a couple of academy kids spar in the courtyard, so when Glenn approached it was far too simple to tug hard at his ponytail. Felix whirled around looking like he was going to punch him and then looked confused. “What are you doing here?”

“What kind of greeting is that for you favorite brother?”

Felix crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “You’re my only brother.”

“So your least favorite brother too,” Glenn said.

“Why are you here?” Felix asked again.

“Why do you need to know?” Glenn couldn’t resist asking. Something about being around Felix made him revert to a nine year old.

Felix’s withering glare was getting better. Almost as good as their mother’s, not that Felix would remember that. “You’re interrupting my class for this.”

Glenn mussed his hair out of his hair tie so it was halfway sliding over Felix’s face, as Felix slapped his hands away. “Where’s your professor?”

Felix pointed back over to the courtyard with his elbow, where the two kids were sparring, while he fixed his hair. “The one about to smash Sylvain in the shin with—yeah, there it is.”

“They look _my_ age,” Glenn said.

“Yeah, but they’re actually good enough at shit to teach it,” Felix replied, lips quirking a little.

Glenn resisted shoving him, only because Sylvain (which he should’ve realized by that hair), let their professor help him up and then grinned in the general direction of where Felix and a couple of other students were sitting on the grass and his little brother looked flushed and still had that dumb look on his face like he did when they were kids.

“ _Still_?” Glenn asked.

“Shut _up_ ,” Felix said, half under his breath. He looked even more flushed.

Glenn sighed. He had no idea if Gautier was this stupid or purposefully being an asshole, but he literally winked in Felix’s direction before he strode off (limping slightly) towards a group of girls.

“I’m here to watch you in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion,” Glenn said and when Felix turned to look his way with a curious expression, he flicked his ear.

Felix rubbed his ear and gave him that familiar glare again. “Why?”

Glenn refused to answer such a stupid question. “If this is class where are Dimitri and Ingrid?”

“Ingrid’s on stable duty and Dimitri’s right there.” Felix gestured towards the field where another student was setting up for a match. It took him a minute to register that it was Dimitri.

The prince had grown at least three inches since Glenn had seen him last. He might have been taller than him now, that thought made Glenn twist his mouth. He rested a hand on his hip and settled in to watch. It was pretty clear their professor knew what they were doing, but Dimitri had a natural talent for fighting _and_ the work ethic to practice enough to actually use it. Glenn was always a fan of watching him show it off.

They were fighting with practice lances and Dimitri was focused as per usual, but something about his jawline had _also_ filled out in the last few months. Maybe they were feeding him better here. Glenn shifted and put his other hand on his other hip, then dropped the other hand to his side as he observed the practice bout and kept getting distracted by how much more comfortable Dimitri looked handling those ridiculous long limbs of his. He hadn’t quiet settled into it yet but it was getting pretty close to looking like he was going to outmatch his father on the good-looking royalty scale.

Dimitri didn’t fall for the same move that Sylvain did, but their professor managed to best him in the end. He had his general frustration face that he didn’t think he’d done well enough, even though he’d held his own really well, and then lightened up into a smile and Glenn could practically hear the polite thank yous he was giving his teacher.

His heart was racing a little, like he’d been in the spar himself. Dimitri caught sight of him and the polite smile turned into a huge grin as he jogged towards them. “Glenn, are you here to watch the Battle of the Eagle and Lion?”

He was definitely taller than him now. Glenn cleared his throat and smiled. “Couldn’t miss it.” He usually would’ve added a ‘your highness’ in a ridiculously snotty tone, but something about the sweat drenched hair and the way Dimitri had filled out, the urge to hassle him like he did Felix had disappeared.

“That’s excellent!” Dimitri said, somehow smiling even wider. “The Professor said they would show me the technique they used on Sylvain, but you should stay for dinner. The dining room is really very good.”

“You can’t taste anything,” Felix said.

“Well, yes, but I can still observe how other people enjoy themselves, Felix.”

“That’s the stupidest—” Felix started and Glenn flicked his ear again, cutting him off midway.

Felix glared at him and shoved him, which honestly Glenn was surprised hadn’t happened earlier, until he realized Dimitri was blocking them from view of his professor and ah, best behavior Felix. Also, Dimitri’s entire body could block one and a half of them… that was… new.

“You definitely look like they’ve been feeding you,” Glenn said.

Dimitri shrugged off the praise with shoulders that had to be bigger than the last time Glenn saw him. Why was he so focused on this?

Dimitri rubbed a hand through his hair, that had gotten a little longer too, it was flopped over his forehead, but his exertion in the spar had made him sweat enough that it stayed where he pushed it back. “I shouldn’t keep the Professor waiting,” he said. “Felix did you want to come or are you going to catch up with Glenn?”

“I think I’ve caught up enough,” Felix said with another glare that almost could be considered a pout. “And you’re probably looking for Ingrid.”

“Right,” Glenn said. In the last few minutes he’d somehow forgotten the woman he was going to marry existed. That was… not like him at all. “I’ll join you for dinner,” he added, mostly to Dimitri, resisting the urge to kick Felix’s ankle, since he was getting in a _mood_.

Dimitri beamed at him and his heart started racing again like it had during the spar. Felix waved at him and turned one hand into a rude gesture mid-wave before walking off with Dimitri towards where their professor was waiting.

Glenn watched Dimitri walk off and wondered if he looked as stupid as Felix had earlier.

“Oh.” He said as it clicked. And then. “Oh no.” 


	2. Jealousy - Sylvain & Miklan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miklan says goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon setting.
> 
> (I wrote this before learning there was a canon age that Miklan was disinherited, when Sylvain was seventeen, so it's technically canon divergent.)

Miklan and his parents were yelling again. Sylvain’s brain noted this, distractedly. His shoulder still hurt, but it wasn’t dislocated anymore, and he’d had worse during training sessions with some of the Gautier Knights, so he wasn’t sure why _now_ everyone was using it as an excuse to get upset.

Maybe if he’d been able to snap it back into place himself, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Then again, the nurse had done that and Sylvain still had to wear a sling for the next two days. He hated slings, they were itchy and left him without mobility in his arm. Plus they looked stupid.

At least it was his right arm this time. Besides, it was almost an accident.

One of the doors slammed with a lot of force, enough to make Sylvain flinch. He tried to cover it up quickly when he heard the thundering footsteps of his older brother making his way in his direction. Miklan stormed past him and then wheeled back around. He was angrier than he’d been this morning.

Sylvain took an involuntary step back.

Miklan scoffed and clenched his fists, but he didn’t get much closer. “You win.”

“What?”

“It’s all yours,” Miklan said, gesturing to everything around him. “Not only are you heir, you’ve got no competition, because I’m not even a Gautier anymore.”

Sylvain didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?”

“You know,” Miklan said, not answering his question or looking at him. “Before you… it was okay here. Everything was good, then you show up and,” his voice sounded like he was being strangled as his eyes turned their heated hatred on to Sylvain directly. “You ruined _everything._ ”

It wasn’t always like this. Sylvain remembered some of it, not much, but before his crest had been confirmed, Miklan had been… nice all the time not just when he felt like it or there were people around. He’d smiled and ruffled his hair and taught him how to get extra dessert at dinner when their parents were out. The Crest of Gautier ruined everything.

His brother’s clenched fist lifted up and Sylvain flinched again, the disgusted scoff Miklan gave was the only thing that came down. “Some heir,” he spat, and then turned around in the direction he’d been storming off to.

“Where are you going?” Sylvain asked, wishing he’d listened in on what they were yelling about for once. He’d thought it was the same shit as always.

“Out of this hell,” Miklan said, without turning around. “It’s all yours, brat. Enjoy what you didn’t earn.”

“Sylvain,” his father’s voice called from the other direction. Sylvain didn’t respond right away, still staring at his brother’s back. Miklan hadn’t moved. His shoulders moved up and down with how heavy he was breathing.

“Sylvain,” his father said again and Sylvain walked backwards a little so his back wasn’t also to Miklan’s so close, and then turned to walk towards the Margrave. He heard Miklan’s thudding footsteps disappear down the hall.

The Margrave was frowning, he didn’t look as angry as Miklan, but he never did. No one ever did. And Sylvain’s mother was crying.

“What why are—” Sylvain said, trying to go towards her, but his father stopped him with a hand on his good shoulder.

“Miklan’s not a Gautier anymore,” his father said. “So I expect you to—” There was a small pause, as his mother’s sobs broke through loudly and then she disappeared through the nearest door towards her rooms. The Margrave sighed and squeezed Sylvain’s shoulder. “You’re sitting in with me on the next meeting with the minor lords.”

“Okay,” Sylvain said, instead of his usual groan about how boring that was, because it didn’t seem like the time. Miklan had been _disinherited_. That was… why? “My shoulder doesn’t even hurt,” Sylvain said. “And it was basically an accident. Miklan didn’t—”

“We’re not saying his name in this house again,” the Margrave said, cutting Sylvain off. “It’s a disgrace I don’t need in Gautier, do you understand?”

Sylvain didn’t, but he smiled and nodded with a shrug of his bad shoulder anyway, ignoring the pain from that move, so he could prove he was fine.

The Margrave sighed, his hand still on Sylvain’s good shoulder. “Let’s go to the kitchens. You missed dinner.”

They'd all missed dinner — they’d been yelling right through it. “Okay,” Sylvain said again. His father walked him to the kitchens and didn’t take his hand off his shoulder the entire time.


	3. Sharing - Ingrid & Ingrid's Brother (Evin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid smells her brother's cooking the night before she leave for the Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there are no details on Ingrid's brothers, I went with Evin as the eldest (~10 Years older) with two younger siblings (~11/12 Years younger) named Frey and Kelby.
> 
> Canon setting.

Ingrid was going to the Officer’s Academy tomorrow. It had been her dream for longer than she could remember; she used to hang on each and every story Glenn would tell her about his time there. She knew, however, that the main reason so much of their already scant funds had been put towards her tuition was _not_ so she could go and train and become a Knight. That was a dream that had died somewhere around the time Glenn did.

Still, she was excited, it was a chance to escape her predictable schedule at Galatea and as much as they worried and frustrated her, she really did miss Sylvain, Felix, and Dimitri. They hadn’t seen each other on such a regular basis since they were children.

She would miss home, she knew that already, as well as she knew the sounds of her youngest brothers scampering through the home, running themselves ragged and expertly avoiding breaking anything. (Not that they had anything of any real worth anymore — most of it had been sold off ages ago.) She also knew that as well as she could always tell when her eldest brother was in the kitchen.

Ingrid could smell the Daphnel Stew (though Evin insisted on calling it Galatea Stew) from two rooms away. She let her nose lead her towards the kitchen where Evin was adding fattened chunks of meat that had been recently seared to the stew. They probably weren’t chicken, the chickens hadn’t done well this year and Evin usually used a few different kinds of meat, any root vegetables he could find, and enough earthy spices to mask too much gamey flavor. It still smelled wonderful.

“Hello Ingrid,” Evin said without turning around.

The worse his sight got the better his senses were getting, Ingrid noticed. “Did you recognize my footsteps?”

“No, I’m making meat in the kitchen,” Evin smiled, “it’s always you.”

“You’re making my favorite,” Ingrid pointed out.

“You have a lot of favorites,” Evin said, breezily.

She crept closer to see the bubbling liquid starting to turn an appetizing shade of brown and her mouth watered, even though she knew it would be hours until it was done.

“You’re going to miss me,” Ingrid said, staring up at him.

Evin shrugged and then leaned a little towards her to gently jostle her with his elbow. “Only a little.”

She wondered what he would do with a bigger kitchen. If she married someone who could infuse enough funds into Galatea that they could afford a bigger kitchen and a regular staff.

“Did you ever want to go to the Academy?” Ingrid asked him.

He was ten years older than her, but his sight had started to dim when he was younger than she was now, so the more traditional options for the eldest of a noble house went away faster than his eyesight. Besides, by that time Ingrid had been born, their father had put all of the family’s future in her hands, which usually came with all the finances.

“Not really,” Evin said, reaching over for a container that had a notch on the top of it and then moving onto the next one after he brushed his thumb against the notch and repeated the process until he found what he was looking for.

“Why not?” Ingrid asked. “Didn’t you want to be a Knight?”

  
Evin snorted as he added salt to the stew. “No. Knights are always being told what to do and where to go, what’s the point in being a noble, even a poor one, if you can’t at least have some freedom.”

“Besides,” he added. “As our mother before me, I am shamefully uninterested in the Faerghus approach to always being combat ready.”

“You taught me how to use a lance,” Ingrid countered.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be _good_ at it, Brandy-Wine,” he said, using her least favorite nickname in the history of anything anyone had ever called her, including the time Sylvain had called her ‘mother’ before she’d thrown a crabapple at him. “Maybe not as good as you,” he added, the praise making her feel like she’d grown ten sizes taller.

“It’ll only be a year,” Ingrid said, rather than saying she’d miss him terribly.

Evin frowned and then turned towards her, not quite giving her a direct look, but she could see his eyes tracing down the outline of her. She was too afraid to ask what she looked like to him now. The healers said he’d likely be completely blind by the end of the year.

“Don’t marry Gautier,” he said.

Ingrid choked a noise out between a laugh and a scoff. “That has _never_ been an option!”

“I have to deal with whoever you end up bringing home and it’s bad enough you’re leaving me alone with the twins for an entire year, but if you marry someone that annoying, I’ll never forgive you.”

Evin had loved Glenn. Ingrid tried not to think about it. “So who meets your high standards?”

Evin seemed to think about that, tapping his fingers against his pant leg. “Not His Highness either, I need someone with tastebuds and I know he was the one who ate the centerpiece last time they were here.”

“Sylvain dared him,” Ingrid said, sighing. She hadn’t really talked him out of it, when it looked like Dimitri might do it. That felt like ages ago, it was one of the last times they’d all been together.

“Like I said, don’t marry Gautier,” Evin repeated. “And… don’t give in to every marriage proposal Father sends your way, he’s being too pragmatic.”

“He’s _never_ too pragmatic,” Ingrid said, remembering the clutter and glad she could deal with keeping things clean and orderly in her own dorm at the Academy soon, no Frey and Kelby to mess things up or litter everywhere. She’d miss them too.

Evin raised his eyebrows and went to stir the stew again, without comment. The moment the wooden spoon shifted the ingredients around Ingrid’s mouth began to water again.

“It’s going to be a while until this done, Brandy-Wine,” Evin said, but he was smiling.

“I can wait,” Ingrid said and settled herself to lean on the counter next to him.

Evin leaned toward her briefly and his hand wavered for a moment somewhere around her head until she moved towards it a bit and then he pulled her in so he could kiss the top of her hair. “Don’t you dare like their food better than mine.”

“If I do, I’ll be sure to lie about it,” Ingrid said back, beaming at his rare open affection.

“Like I said, pragmatic.”

It was their last dinner all together and having Daphnel (Galatea) Stew was the perfect choice. It meant they had to pass bowls around, scoop for each other, and tear off pieces of hard bread to soak in the stew until it softened. It was a perfect send-off meal and made her excitement war with instant worry about how homesick she’d end up being.


	4. Promises - Hilda & Holst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda packs for the Academy. Or at least she's going to eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon setting.

Hilda’s brother’s sigh was so excessively dramatic. “You’re not packed yet?”

“I started, but then I got tired. The boxes are kinda heavy,” Hilda said. “Also, I’m trying to make this uniform into something cute. I can’t believe they expect us to wear this.”

Holst shook his head. “You’re not supposed to alter the uniform, Hilda.”

“I don’t remember reading that in the introductory brochure,” she said, and then smiled, “mostly because they didn’t have one.”

Holst had that look on his face and Hilda was barely able to prep for it, before meaty arms were swarming her and hoisting her up into a back breaking hug. Ugh he smelled like sweat and boy. It took like three different pinches until he actually dropped her. She didn’t mind being carried, but sheesh.

“You’re going to write me every week,” her big brother said, with his very serious face.

“Every _week_?” Hilda said, once she could breathe. “I’ll be doing actual assignments! That’ll give me hand cramps!”

“Every week,” Holst repeated. “I’m not budging on this. I need to know you’re doing okay or I’m coming up there.”

Hilda gasped. “Are you _kidding_? That would be so humiliating! It’s bad enough I have to go and they’re going to expect me to do officer stuff, but if you come it’ll be like reminding them of how good you were when you were there! They’ll expect me to be the same.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Hilda.”

“I _am_ short,” Hilda shot back and then lifted her arm up and down to gesture to the difference in their heights. “Can’t I write you once a month?”

Ohhhh boy that was a big frown. She hated that frown. He looked so disappointed. Why’d he always expect things out of her? Their parents were so much easier, she was supposed to look pretty and probably marry someone someday and maybe pop out some babies or whatever. Even the Officer’s Academy was because it was practically required of Alliance nobility. Hilda only agreed to it, because she wanted a vacation.

“Okay, okay fine!” Hilda caved. “I promise I’ll _try_ , but don’t expect miracles. It’s not like I know how to write good letters.”

“They send you on real missions,” Holst said. “Real fighting. With real people trying to kill you.”

“Gross.” Hilda crinkled her nose and gagged.

Holst shook his head. “So I want to know you’re doing okay, alright?”

“Okay,” Hilda said. She could probably fake her way to okay. “But, seriously? I can’t adjust the uniform _at all_?”

Holst sighed and gestured to where she had the pieces of her new everyday wear spread out. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Hilda beamed at him and smiled even more when she saw him smile in response and then walked him through her design changes so far. They were pretty subtle, she figured if she went full on revise with the uniform there’d be objections… or worse someone would think she was a _teacher,_ but they were definitely going to add a cuteness factor that was otherwise missing from this shapeless atrocity.

“That’s pretty good, Hil. You’ve got an eye for that.”

Hilda eyed him sideways, feeling uncomfortable…he was going to expect her to adjust all the uniforms of everyone at the school now, but she was kinda proud of hers so far and maybe she could adjust a _few_ like if her soon-to-be friends needed to look cute too.

“So you see how busy I’ve been,” she said, blinking up and him wide-eyed and only ever so slightly pushing out her lower lip to remind him that she was his baby sister.

Holst sighed again, which meant she won. “Fine. I’ll help you pack.”

Hilda clapped and cheered for him.


	5. Teaching/Learning - Ashe & Christophe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe doesn't have a good read on his new adoptive brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon setting.

Ashe met his new brother three months after Lonato took them in. Christophe was only a little taller than Lonato (both much taller than Ashe), but even though on sight he looked less harsh, their overall… personableness made Ashe worry about Christophe in a way he didn’t about Lonato.

Soon after, he worried less. Christophe was kind to his two new youngest siblings and Ashe was happy to see his brother and sister not only so well taken care of, but happy. They couldn’t remember much of their parents, that was all on Ashe, but because of their new adoptive father they’d have something to fill the spaces where those memories should go.

Christophe didn’t seem to know what to do with Ashe. Ashe caught him looking over his shoulder at Ashe, frowning thoughtfully when he thought Ashe wasn’t looking. Ashe wasn’t sure what to make of him either. Christophe was quiet mostly, which Ashe didn’t mind, but the rare occasions where he would make noise were in the training yard. He was loud and forceful in a way Ashe wasn’t sure he could be.

He’d tried to learn a few things, but lances were heavy, and he didn’t really understand how the grips on swords worked. He was getting better with axes, but it was still hard to keep up with the other boys his age who had been training like this since they were five. It never seemed this hard for the knights in his stories.

“Ashe,” Christophe called to him one day, as he dragged himself away from the library to fulfill his training obligations.

He liked the word obligation. He’d read it three times in a book that morning and thought he’d try and put it into action as soon as possible.

“Hold off on that,” Christophe said, gesturing to the training axe Ashe held. “I watched you a few times and I think you need a bit more weight before you get anywhere with it.”

Ashe felt embarrassed. He could feel his face getting hot and tried to resist the impulse to flee.

Christophe didn’t seem to notice. Lonato would have. Ashe still wasn’t sure which he preferred in things like this.

“Here,” Christophe said and put a bow in his hand. “I think you’ll do better with this. You’re wiry and obviously good with dexterity if you were able to pick our locks.”

Ashe was definitely blushing now. He looked away.

“I can show you a few things I learned at the Academy,” Christophe offered. “I like archery, you don’t interact with people as much.”

Did that mean he didn’t think he was good at interacting with people? Ashe risked looking back at him, but Christophe’s face was still fairly blank, though not unfriendly. If it wasn’t only Ashe then maybe it was the way Christophe was.

“I’d… I mean if you could show me, I’d like that,” Ashe said. His words felt like they tripped on each other out of his throat. He forced a smile.

Christophe didn’t smile back, but gestured with his hand towards an area Ashe hadn’t been before. “We’ll practice on simple targets,” he said, showing Ashe to the small cleared out grove where there were archery targets set up at varying lengths (varying had been Ashe’s word from two days ago).

“Do you know how to use a bow at all?” Christophe asked.

Ashe didn’t know how to answer that so he shook his head. There was no disappointment on Christophe’s face, only a thoughtful nod. “Let’s start from the basics then.”

Christophe walked Ashe through each part of the bow. When he said basics, he really meant it. He walked Ashe through how they found the right wood, where they made the bowstring, and which kind of arrows were better for which kinds of bows, all before he got to showing Ashe how to hold the one he had.

He didn’t immediately make the first target, but Christophe seemed to think he’d done good for a first try and Ashe felt… good about that. And maybe like he could believe it, because Christophe didn’t seem like the type of person to lie about things.

The second one missed too, and the third, but the fourth landed somewhere in the left center of the target and a small reserved smile showed on Christophe’s face. “I knew you would pick this up quickly.”

“Thank you,” Ashe said. He didn't know when he’d stop having to say it. He was so grateful.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Christophe said. “We’re brothers. I’m showing you what I learned. You can show me how you picked that lock.”

Ashe’s ears felt hot. “I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

“Then we won’t tell anyone,” Christophe said. It didn’t sound like he was plotting, it sounded… like it was the next logical step.

Ashe had been the oldest for as long as he could remember and that was a lot of work. He knew it was his responsibility to take care of his younger brother and sister, but not being the oldest anymore made him feel a little less tired.

“I guess, I can show you a little,” Ashe said.

Christophe’s smile was still reserved and he continued showing Ashe how to use his bow.


	6. Ghosts - Mercedes & Emile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emile wants Mercedes to finish her story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon setting.

Emile snuck back into Mercedes room after the servants had all gone to bed. He had a plate of sweets that he’d clearly stolen from the kitchen.

“You didn’t finish,” Emile pointed out when Mercedes frowned at him. “I want to hear the end of it.”

“Oh,” Mercedes laughed and then looked over the sweets and gave in, gesturing him over. “All right.”

Emile sat cross legged on the floor next to her, in front of the empty fireplace. It was too warm to have a fire lit, but Mercedes still liked sitting here, because it was the best place to sit in the winter. She reached over for one of the sweet-bean pastries that Fritz had made and smiled as she bit into it and smiled wider when Emile shoved an entire one in his mouth.

“Where’d I leave off?” Mercedes asked.

Emilie was still chewing, he worked hard to swallow. “The horned helmed killer had gotten to the abbey.”

“Yes, right,” Mercedes tried to remember how she’d planned on ending it. She’d heard another version before but the ending had been more sad than scary. Ghost stories needed to be a little dark but also hopeful at the end of it. “There were only three nuns at the abbey,” Mercedes said. “And none of them were expecting visitors on such a cold and rainy night. The pounding that came at the doors sounded like thunder at first and the youngest of them finally realized someone was knocking. She reached for the door to let in whoever was seeking shelter and—”

Emile was leaning forward and dropped the plate. He frowned and made a frustrated huff before piling the spilled pastries back onto the plate. “Keep going,” he demanded.

Mercedes fought a smile. “And when she opened the door the lightning cracked behind the horn helmed killer, giving him an even more sinister glow.” She paused a little, waiting for Emile to give her another demanding look before continuing. “The killer pushed his way into the abbey, throwing the nun back against the open door frame and putting his scythe to her throat.”

Emile leaned in a little more.

“And then she screamed,” Mercedes said quickly, enjoying the slight jump her little brother made. “The other nuns rushed to her aid, but they were too late. However, the horned killer hadn’t noticed in the rain what the abbey truly was. He hadn’t killed a nun, he’d killed a keeper of magic and the other nuns watched as her ghost swarmed him and claimed him with the magic he’d released. The helm soldered to his skull and made him into the monster he already was.”

“Did he kill the other nuns?” Emile asked after the next pause.

Mercedes thought about it and then shook her head. “He was too terrified of what happened and fled. He was changed completely and he was hunted ever after, unable to hide what he was, unable to pounce unsuspectingly as he’d done before. The monster on the inside now matched his outside.”

Emile looked satisfied with that story, he grabbed another pastry and shoved it in his mouth. “You forgot the part where you tell me he still haunts the woods to this day.”

Mercedes wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like those parts, they’re made to scare children into behaving.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Emile agreed, grinning at her as he offered her the last treat. She smiled back at him and pushed it into her mouth all at once.


	7. Free Day - Edelgard & Dimitri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Edelgard move into the Blue Lion's dorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where Edelgard stays in Fhirdiad and is raised as Dimitri's sibling.

“Did you need any help with that El?” Dimitri could not help asking, even though as suspected Edelgard turned to look over her shoulder and gave him a withering stare.

She was holding three heavier boxes, both of them refusing to accept any help setting up their dormitory. It seemed silly to accept help, since the point of the Officer’s Academy was to set them on equal footing with nobility and commoners alike to train and being waited on wouldn’t truly accomplish that.

Still, the boxes were somewhat larger in her arms then they would be in his.

Edelgard always seemed to know what he was thinking, so that got another glare and her hoisting the boxes into a single arm as she stomped up the stairs. Dimitri sighed and followed her.

“Watch it, Princess,” someone snapped as Edelgard pushed into the second floor of the dormitory. Dimitri resisted the urge to speed up and threaten whoever had said that, because El had made him swear to let her fight her own battles and had proven she was competent in that area when Sylvain had shown up and she deflated him faster than Dimitri had ever seen anyone do, including Ingrid.

By the time Dimitri had reached the top stair, whoever it was had left and Edelgard was putting her boxes down so she could open the door to her room. He noted where her room was and recalled his was much further down the hall, frowning. “Do you need help unpacking?” he asked.

“ _Dimitri,_ ” Edelgard said, pointedly frustrated. “Would you stop hovering?”

“I’m not hovering,” Dimitri protested, but Edelgard turned towards him and looked up at where he was standing over her. “My height doesn’t _automatically_ mean I’m hovering, El.”

She sighed and pressed her fingers to her brow-bone. “Dimitri, you are the house leader. You’re going to have plenty of people to watch over without worrying about me. I want to… enjoy being out of Fhirdiad and proving myself without…” she gestured at him. “You trying to protect me.”

“All right,” Dimitri said, feeling more than a little rejected. He didn’t catch if El’s expression shifted as he forced himself down the hall, but he heard her small sigh, the one she gave when she was tired of him.

He spent the next hour setting up his things, with only four interruptions. Sylvain had come by and did actually help him set up his things, but mostly was there to occupy his hands while he tried to convince Dimitri to ‘go out on the town with him’ which ended when Felix showed up and much more sanely let Dimitri know where his and Ingrid’s rooms were before Sylvain retrained his harassment on a new target and followed Felix out. The next two interruptions were Annette, whom he hadn’t seen in a few years, but was as boisterous as ever (even if she refused to call him anything but Your Highness) and Ingrid, informing him where the kitchens were and that she’d tested the quality for him.

Dimitri was mostly satisfied with the way his room was set up once he was finally finished. It wasn’t exactly like his room at home (for one, it was a much further distance from El’s own room—not that she would sneak into his anymore to stay up talking or try and fashion ropes out of the bedsheets, should the need ever arise to escape), but it was homey for what it was.

He turned at another knock on his door and El was standing there, tapping her fingers against the door frame. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Didn’t you?” Dimitri asked. Then stopped and said, “No. I shouldn’t be so… protective. I know you can handle yourself.”

“You don’t have to _avoid_ me,” Edelgard said. “But I do want to take this opportunity to get out a little more, not be… only your sister.”

Dimitri sat down on his bed, so he’d even their heights slightly. “You’d be the Black Eagles house leader if you were still…” In the Empire? Although now it was less of an Empire and more of a Republic, at least according to the Council of Seven who managed it in a way they claimed was similar to the Alliance. From his brief meeting with the house leaders, he wasn’t sure he’d ever met two people farther alike than their respective representatives. This was going to be an interesting year.

“Does that bother you?” Dimitri asked.

Edelgard seemed to give that some thought and then shook her head. “No. I wasn’t exactly heir to the throne in the Empire either. I like the idea of making my own way and proving myself here.” She smiled a little. “Besides, their house leader keeps saying his entire name every time he introduces himself and I think that would be a little tiresome.”

Dimitri laughed. “Yes, he’s… he seems nice,” he added, before he could say something rude. He was supposed to be setting good diplomatic ties.

Edelgard shook her head at him, but she was still smiling. “I know you can’t treat me like any other student, but at least try occasionally?” She gestured to him. “You should use this as an opportunity too. You need to stand on your own feet and show you can lead.”

“Is that a worry people have that I can’t?” Dimitri asked.

Edelgard shrugged. “You should expect it to be. You’re too nice,” she said and then walked back towards the door opening it and leaning against the frame. “I’m going to explore and meet the rest of the students. Think you can handle yourself for a while?”

“I’ll do my best,” Dimitri said, forcing himself to smile a little more.

She shook her head at him again and strode out the door. “I’ll see you at dinner, Dima.”

That made him feel much better. It also meant he had the entire day to think of something to do on his own that didn’t involve running into her. He gave himself a few moments and then decided to meet the rest of the Blue Lions he didn’t know yet… maybe he’d also run into whoever had insulted her on the way up. He’d do the same for any of the students in his house.


End file.
